Teamwork
by Jessa4865
Summary: Carter and Reese discover the fun of working as a team. Rated for language, COMPLETE!
1. Chapter 1

Teamwork  
Jezyk  
Spoilers: Anything through season 1  
Disclaimer: Clearly not mine.

Part One

She wasn't at all surprised when the phone rang. It was half past eight and whenever she worked late, Taylor always got worried and checked on her well-being, even when he was staying with friends. She flipped open the phone without checking the display.

"Hey, baby, I'm fine. Just doing paperwork."

There was a lengthy pause, revealing that it was not Taylor long before the older man spoke. "Detective Carter, our friend needs some help."

She rolled her eyes. John was in trouble. In other words, just a regular night. "What now?"

She didn't bother pretending she wouldn't help; they all knew she would. Especially after the last time, when she'd stood in a room full of agents and cops who were about to arrest, and likely kill, John. She'd thought she'd die just watching the scene unfold, her heart pounding harder in her chest than it had when she'd faced Bottlecap's gun.

Thank god everyone's attention had been turned toward their screens to follow John, one look at her face would have given away her personal involvement. Hell, she'd nearly been in tears when she saw John running around in circles like a rat in a maze. She shuddered thinking about it.

"It's rather an emergency. He's apparently running low on ammunition." Finch's voice wavered the slightest bit, his worry slipping through his calm façade.

"Jesus, at what point will you two learn?" She was already on her feet and headed toward the door. "One day, he's going to get himself killed, probably you too, hell, probably all four of us."

"I'm afraid every close call he survives only further convinces him that he's invincible."

"Where is he?"

She got the address, the last GPS location of his phone, and hurried off to help. As much as she bitched about it, she loved that they still depended on her. Knowing Fusco was in the mix, knowing he had considerably more flexible morals, knowing the only thing he cared about was saving his own ass, would have made him the obvious choice. The men all knew she was the only one who actually felt bound to obey laws, even if they had talked her into straying over that line more than once. In fact, the evidence they had on her would be more than enough to keep her in line should they feel like cutting her loose.

It made her believe that the contact continued because John wanted it. And that made her smile, even as she turned on the lights and siren and pressed the accelerator to the floor.

#####

She was about to call Finch, to report that she couldn't find anyone, when she heard the smattering of gunfire. Someone had an automatic weapon and she suspected that, had it been John with that kind of firepower, she wouldn't have been called. The answering volley was a single shot from a handgun, confirming her suspicions.

At least her timing was perfect, arriving just as John ran empty.

The problem was that she traced the sound to an alley with a dead end and almost no cover. There was no way for her to offer him assistance on foot. She'd have to drive into the middle of it and hope he got to her before the bad guys did.

She closed her eyes and said a quick prayer, wondering once again why she was willing to go to these lengths for this man. What the hell was it about him that made her risk her life and her career over and over again? She answered her own question, her mind immediately recalling the way he'd appeared just in the nick of time to save her from the bullet with her name on it and the heartfelt promise that he wouldn't let any harm come to her son before she even knew Taylor was in danger.

She revved the engine and sped into the alley, wincing and ducking instinctively as the bullets started flying her way.

Slamming on the brakes to avoid the brick wall at the end, she threw the car into reverse. The passenger door flew open amid a hail of bullets from the driver's side, John jumping into the car with a wide smile that instantly reminded her of another reason why she did what she did for him.

"Go!" He slapped his hand onto her knee, causing her foot to press the gas, sending them flying back the way she'd come. The bullets kept coming, shattering the driver's side windows, even as they moved, revealing the presence of a second shooter. No wonder he'd needed help.

She felt the piercing pain just as he reached for her, pulling her down away from the window, taking over the steering of the car for her. She was completely disoriented, the car whipping around as he threw it into drive with her head still cradled against his chest. He moved over to the middle of the seat, his leg reaching past hers to take over the rest of the controls.

He drove them out of the immediate area before he pulled over. "Carter? Where are you hit?" His voice was panicked, his face scared. His hands seemed to be everywhere at once, checking over her for the source of the blood.

She shook her head, trying to get her thoughts together while his worried hands threatened to scatter them again. "I'm not hit. I think," She sat up, looking down at her left shoulder and the blown out window. "I think it's just glass."

He leaned over her, either not believing her or needing to see for himself. His touch was gentle as he inspected her shoulder, her neck, even ran his hand through her hair, his relief obvious when he came to the same conclusion. His eyes closed and he let out a breath, his hand remaining against the back of her neck. "Oh thank god."

It made her smile, despite the pain, despite the problem of explaining a shot up car to the NYPD. He'd been worried about her. He was glad she wasn't hurt worse. He met her eyes, that sexy smirk of his appearing, and for a long moment, he just looked at her. They'd never been so close, mere inches separating them.

"Thank you." He finally broke the stare, carefully trying to extricate himself from the physical tangle that had occurred during their escape. But his attempts to move were jarring her sliced up shoulder, so she stopped him with a hand on his arm.

"Stop. Just stop moving." She waited until he did so before she continued. "I think you'd better drive."

He was already half in the driver's seat and it just seemed easier for her to scoot herself over him into the passenger seat.

At least it seemed easier until she tried it one-handed, losing her balance and dropping into his lap.

She heard the quick breath he took, his attempt to circumvent his body's instinctive response to hers. Yeah, she thought, that's exactly why she answered every call. The attraction between them was a force all its own and it was too damn fun to ignore. John's flirting and occasional touches made her feel things she hadn't been sure she'd ever feel again.

And the sensation of him holding her still in his lap for a briefest of moments was another one of those that she'd never expected. She'd thought it was just flirting, just fun, just friendship, but in that moment, he'd revealed that he really was attracted to her.

Well, hell, that changed the game a bit.

He didn't take long to recover, using his superior strength and uninjured arms to lift her the rest of the way over. He didn't say a word, didn't smile, didn't even raise an eyebrow at her. That told her as much, if not more, about what he felt.

After another long moment, he shifted back to look at her, his attention on her bloody shoulder. "Do you want to go to the hospital?"

Shaking her head, she didn't glance at the wound that hurt like hell. She knew looking would only make it hurt worse. "No, I'll be fine. Just take me home."

Then he did give her that raised eyebrow and a smirk. "I thought you'd never ask."

#####

When they arrived back at her place, she expected John would be on his way. It wasn't the first time he'd left her with a huge mess to explain and nothing from him but a snarky remark.

But this time, he hurried around the car to open her door, even offering his hand to help her to her feet.

He nodded at the car while he escorted her up the steps. "Tomorrow morning, report the cruiser stolen. I'll take care of the rest."

She nodded, thoroughly relieved that he was finally willing to help. "Thanks."

Rather than leaving her at the front door of her building, he held it open for her and followed her all the way to her door. Shaking her head at his odd behavior, she slid her key into the lock and stepped inside. When he moved to follow, she turned to stare at him.

"Are you going to follow me into the shower too?"

A hint of a smile appeared, fading as soon as it had come. He tried to move past her into the apartment, but she blocked him.

"Did you hit your head or something? You're not acting like you."

"You think you know me well enough to know when I'm not acting like me?" He accepted that she wasn't just going to let him walk in, but he wasn't leaving either.

Something was definitely going on.

"You've voluntarily said more than two words. Clearly something happened." She leaned her head to the side. "Come on, 'fess up or I'm not coming next time Finch calls and says you're in trouble."

He turned away, his brow furrowing as he gazed in the general direction of her couch. "That's just it, Carter." He turned back to face her, his eyes on hers, his expression open and vulnerable. "You drove straight into that alley to help me."

She shrugged. "It's not the first time, John. It's what we do, right? Back each other up. We're a team."

He shook his head. "You had no idea what you were driving into." His hand pulled at the fabric of her blazer above her bleeding shoulder, calling her attention to a second hole in her shirt. "This bullet hit the headrest, Jos, it almost killed you."

She swallowed hard, pushing back her own feelings at the near miss she hadn't even realized she'd had. She reached up and covered his hand. "It didn't kill me because you pulled me out of the way."

He looked down. "You shouldn't have been there in the first place."

She grasped his hand. "If I hadn't been there, you'd be dead. I'm willing to get hurt to save your life, John. I know you'd do the same for me."

His eyes moved back to hers for a second as he forced a smile. He nodded a moment later, and she decided that he was accepting her declaration even if he didn't like it. "How bad is it?" He nodded at her shoulder.

As with most injuries, she suspected it felt a hell of a lot worse than it actually was. She steeled herself to look, almost pleased to find that while it was bleeding, she really couldn't see much through her clothes. She pulled the fabric back a bit, an excruciatingly sharp pain bringing tears to her eyes. "I think there's still glass in there. Besides that, it'll be fine."

She worked off her jacket carefully to avoid disturbing it, then took another look through her blood stained shirt. Once she got the glass out, she knew it wouldn't hurt nearly as much. She tried to get a good look at it, but between her shirt and its location on the outside of her shoulder, it was impossible.

"You can't see it, Carter, you're just going to make it worse." He moved in front of her, his hand brushing hers out of the way.

She felt his fingers prodding around the cut, then a sharp pain when he pressed a piece of the glass. "Ow, shit, that hurt!"

"Sorry, I can't really see."

"No x-ray vision? I'm disappointed."

His hands touched her hips suddenly, his fingers slipping under the hem of her shirt, lifting it the slightest bit. "May I?" He waited without presuming, his clear blue eyes holding hers, waiting for an answer. He had no idea he took her breath away.

It was adorable, she thought when her brain started functioning again. Smiling at the chivalry, she nodded. She couldn't say she'd never thought about him gently tugging her shirt over her head, but she'd certainly never thought it would be under these circumstances. Raising her arms, the blinding pain immediately distracted her. She told herself it wouldn't do to scream in pain over a cut when she was with a man who was consistently able to get up and run with bullets and knife wounds and god only knew what else in him.

Still, all the rationalization in the world didn't help when a shard of glass shifted under her skin. She stifled the yelp, but she knew he'd heard it anyway.

He turned his full attention to her wound. "I see a few pieces of glass in here. You have tweezers?" It was weird to feel his breath falling against her bare skin as he spoke.

She nodded, wondering when he'd start teasing her about the gooseflesh that arose under his hands. He would. He noticed everything and he always teased her. And she was powerless to resist the instinctive response of her body to his touch.

She cleared her throat. "In the first aid kit. Kitchen."

"Lead the way."

He let her get a head start of quite a few feet and only then, when she noticed his hesitation to follow, did it occur to her that he was enjoying the view. Immeasurably happy that she was wearing one of her good bras that day, she turned around to face him unashamed.

She raised an eyebrow which she was fairly certain he didn't even notice considering that his eyes were focused considerably lower. "Is there a problem?"

His eyes snapped to hers as a blush spread across his face. "N-n-no," he choked out as he started to cough. "Right behind you."

She let herself smile and enjoy the victory. He'd liked what he'd seen. And she was glad to know that, despite having given up on finding someone, she could still turn the head of an attractive man and make him stutter.


	2. Chapter 2

Part Two

She showed him the way to the kitchen, gathering the first aid kit out of the cabinet, then perched herself on the counter. She was mom, she was used to doing the fixing, but simply being the patient didn't explain the nervous butterflies dancing around in her stomach. No, they were entirely caused by the gorgeous man with the amazing eyes who'd focused those amazing eyes on her shoulder.

He leaned in close, his hand pushing lightly on her arm to get her lean back until the light mounted under the cabinet shone on her shoulder. "It's probably uncomfortable, but the light helps."

She laughed, hoping it sounded amused rather than anxious. "You can't see in the dark either? Damn, you're starting to seem almost human." Just as before, his touch heightened her awareness, causing her entirely body to buzz like she was touching a live wire.

His eyes moved from her shoulder, catching hers, a reassuring smile curving his lips.

She was startled by his proximity, feeling like she could drown in those blue eyes.

"I'll try not to hurt you too much." He watched. He waited.

She couldn't do anything but stare back at him and pray she wouldn't embarrass herself by grabbing onto him and refusing to let go.

"Carter?"

She continued to stare, trying to smile, knowing she wasn't doing a very good job of it.

"You're shaking." His head cocked to the side. "Relax, it's not going to hurt that much, Jos." His hand was resting on her waist, perhaps intending to soothe her. All it was doing was driving her insane, the heat of his palm pressing against her skin.

God, the man was beautiful, his face, his voice, even his hands. She wasn't sure how long her self-control would last. And though he was distracted by her injury, the man was sharp and would undoubtedly ferret out the source of her distress if she gave him much more time. Besides, she'd seen in the car that the attraction wasn't simply one sided.

Might as well grab the bull by the horns. So she stared back at him and shrugged as nonchalantly as she could. "That's not really the problem I'm having at the moment."

She was close enough to see the way his pupils dilated the slightest bit, to feel the change in his breathing when his breath brushed across her skin. He swallowed hard, a long, strange moment passing before he looked down.

And promptly realized that down wasn't a better direction considering her state of undress. His head turned to the side as he squeezed his eyes closed, a chuckle finally escaping from his lips. At least he was as uncomfortable as she was.

He shook it off, then picked up the tweezers and motioned toward her shoulder, meeting her eyes with a fleeting, yet determined look. "Let's solve one problem at a time, ok?" His eyebrow quirked up, leaving her quite curious to know if he was actually tempted to address her violent attraction to him.

She nodded stupidly; she'd agree to anything he asked when he fixed that stare on her. She suspected he knew it.

He worked quietly and carefully to pick out the remaining bits of glass from her skin without causing her more pain than absolutely necessary. It hurt, quite a lot actually, to have someone digging around in an open wound with tweezers, but it didn't matter. She'd happily sit there and suffer for the rest of time as long as he stayed with her, as long as he kept touching her.

He finished with the tweezers, setting them down and picking up cotton balls and peroxide. "This is going to hurt, but you're not getting out of it, so don't even try."

Because he'd brought it up, and because she never had the sense to not argue with him, she made a show of shifting away. "I just needed help with the glass. I can take care of washing it out myself." It was true, after all; he couldn't dispute that, she reasoned as she touched his hand, almost trying to grab the bottle of peroxide.

He shook his head. "It's my fault you're bleeding, the least I can do is make sure it doesn't get infected." All business, he set about dousing the cotton with peroxide.

Something about his concentration reminded her of reality. There she was, sitting half dressed in her kitchen with a man who was decidedly dangerous, in so very many ways, and she was flirting with him. She'd lost her damn mind.

Reaching out again, this time actually meaning it, she told herself to get her head back in the game. "I've got it. Thanks for your help."

John didn't notice the change in her demeanor or he just didn't care, because he lifted his arms over his head, well out of her reach. "Oh, no you don't." He ginned at her playfully as he shifted his body in front of her. "You going to sit still and be a good patient?"

She couldn't stop the laugh that bubbled out of her at his words, his teasing instantly putting her at ease. "So we're playing doctor now?"

His laughter joined hers as he lowered his arms and rested them on either side of her legs. "Got over your handcuff fixation, I see."

"You're the one who keeps mentioning them. I think you're the one with the handcuff fetish." Not that she would mind playing any game he wanted. Her resolve to be serious had disappeared as quickly as it had come and she found herself struggling to get it back. "I'd like to put my shirt back on at some point, you know."

And then he wasn't grinning, just entrenched in her personal space and staring her down. "Don't hurry on my account." His hands moved to her legs, just above the knee, resting lightly there. An alpha male all the way, marking his territory, flaunting the fact that he could.

Any other man tried such a thing and she would have been pissed off at his presumption, but it wasn't any other man. It was John. And she'd just told him that she was turned on by him. She tried to work through it logically, reviewing what had recently changed. She'd admitted that she was attracted to him. He'd admitted that he was attracted to her. Simply having voiced the words shouldn't have changed anything; not with the way they had flirted shamelessly the entire time they'd known each other.

Still, something was different. Something had changed.

And when she averted her eyes and saw her lacy blue bra, she could have kicked herself. Yes, something was different, she wasn't wearing a shirt. That would definitely explain why it wasn't business as usual. They weren't meeting in a public place with a million witnesses. They were in her apartment, alone, and she was half dressed.

As soon as she broke eye contact, John went back to the task at hand. He picked up the cotton balls and tossed them in the trash, reaching for clean ones from the bag and pouring the peroxide on them. Then he started dabbing at her wound. He was excessively gentle, taking his time to keep from hurting her.

She hissed in pain anyway, the liquid burning harshly.

He leaned in, blowing softly to soothe it, the way she had done a million times for her son.

Except it wasn't a mother soothing a child. It was an entirely different concept to have John Reese's lips barely an inch from her skin, to feel his breath caressing her, to feel the heat from his body. She held her breath, fighting for the last vestiges of dignity, determined not to embarrass herself.

He noticed, of course; he was too close to miss it. He looked up at her, his face still so close. "Almost done, Jos." His thick, raspy voice saying her name was the last straw.

Her head fell back, a groan ripping from her throat. She didn't even care that she'd just mortified herself. Hell, it was all she could do not to grab the man and demand that he untie the knot he'd made of her insides. She imagined he'd be quite good at fixing the mess he'd made of her, at knowing what to do with her body, at making her scream in a way she never had before.

In fact, she was so lost in the idea of it that she almost didn't notice when he moved, his face moving from her shoulder, his lips grazing her neck as he nuzzled just below her ear.

She did grab him then, when she realized it was real, her fingers gripping his shirt to pull him close, her knees widening to allow his body to slip between them. His hands moved to her waist, burning hot against her bare skin.

He placed a wet kiss at the corner of her jaw before he turned further toward her, pressing his forehead against her cheek. "Damn it, Carter, you're going to make me break all my rules."

It made her snicker. "I wasn't aware there were rules left you hadn't broken."

"You don't know, Jos," he whispered as he pulled back to look at her. "You're far more dangerous than me."

Perhaps because her thought process had been put on pause while all of her body's energy was coiling between her legs, she couldn't understand him. It sounded wistful, like a compliment, but he was calling her dangerous. "How am I dangerous?" She knew he wasn't referring to her being a cop, but that was about all she knew.

"I'm still here, aren't I?" His eyes moved slowly over his face, his normally sharp gaze soft, his face affectionate. "I'm not planning on leaving either."

"I'm not planning on letting you."

She leaned forward, intending to kiss him, but he shifted to the side, running his mouth across her jaw and down the column of her throat. He kissed the pulse point at the base of her neck, letting his tongue dart out to graze her collarbone as he moved to the side. He lowered his forehead, his hands moving to her back to pull her into a hug.

He stayed like that for several minutes, his face pressed lightly against her neck, his arms around her, just holding her. Maybe he was changing his mind. Maybe he didn't know what to do. Maybe he was attempting to reign in control.

Whatever it was, she wanted him to keep doing it forever. To encourage him, she stayed completely still, her hands still fisted in his shirt.

Finally he moved, lifting his head to face her, his hands curling around the back of her knees to pull her body into him. But rather than leaning in for the kiss she expected, he just looked at her, his eyes seeming to size her up, like he was interrogating her. It reminded her of the way he'd looked at her the first time they'd met, while he was clearly trying to decide if she was worth trusting.

All she could do was desperately hope she passed the test because she was convinced she would die right then and there if she didn't have the man in her bed that night.

His expression softened again, his head tilting to the side, a small smile curving his lips. "This is going to complicate things."

She nodded. "I'm ok with complicated."

"Are you sure?"

It struck her that he was hopelessly sweet, and someday she was going to tell him that. He wasn't going to rush her into bed and leave her to regret it later. He wasn't going to lie and promise her that everything was going to be simple and easy for them. He wasn't going to pretend he didn't think it was worth risking everything for.

She didn't waste time explaining herself or even reassuring him. Instead she threaded her fingers into his hair, pulling him into a kiss that would leave him with no doubts whatsoever as to her feelings.

He responded exactly as she expected, tightening his hold around her, slanting his head to the side to deepen the kiss, slipping his tongue into her mouth and making her moan. She released his head, sliding her hands onto his chest, then back up, one slipping around his shoulders to hold him while the other froze in pain. It hurt like hell, but she wasn't about to say anything. She didn't want to interrupt the man, not when he was kissing her more thoroughly than she'd been kissed in a long, long time.

As always, John was able to read her mind, breaking the kiss and pulling away slightly. His eyes stayed closed for a beat, his lips wet, a mask of sheer desire covering his face. Finally, he seemed to pull himself together, carefully extracting himself from the embrace. "I should probably finish this first, huh?"

She glanced at her shoulder, the wound still bleeding a little bit. "I shouldn't complain-"

"I'm sure it hurts, Carter." He picked through the first aid kit, pulling out some gauze and taping it over her shoulder.

Before he had the chance to rethink what had happened, she reached out with her good arm, grabbing a fistful of his shirt and drawing him back to her. "Where were we?"

A grin spread across his face as he pulled her off the counter into his arms, her legs wrapping around his waist. "I think we were heading this way." He moved through the kitchen and down the hallway toward her bedroom.

#####

In the wee hours of the morning, she lay on her side, snuggled against him, her hand tracing invisible patterns on his chest. John hadn't said anything intelligible for some time, neither had she, but the silence was comfortable. Still, when she tilted her head up to look at the man who was wide awake as well, she felt something needed to be said.

"You know, John, earlier I told you I was ok with things being complicated," she paused when she saw the storm gathering in his eyes, the barely restrained pain quickly hidden behind a carefully neutral face. She felt his muscles tensing, but she stopped him with her palm flat against his chest. "You'll get up when I tell you to get up, mister."

His eyes darted back and forth between hers, trying, and obviously failing, to read her, trying to understand why she was flirting when she was ending what had only just begun.

She smiled at him. "I'm not just ok with things being complicated." She leaned down and pressed a kiss onto his chest. "No, I think I really, really like complicated things."

The corners of his mouth curved up and the panic faded away. "I thought you-"

Shifting over to straddle him, she held his eyes. "I know exactly what you were thinking, John." She leaned down, her lips grazing his as she spoke. "And I'm hereby outlawing any more thinking."

He grinned then, lifting his hands up, offering his wrists to her. "Then you'd better arrest me, detective, because I was just thinking about how much I like complicated too."

She grabbed his wrists and pushed his arms above his head. "Might have to break out those handcuffs after all since you're not going to be cooperative."

His eyes twinkled. "Promises, promises."

But as soon as she shifted her hips a bit lower, she found that John Reese could be the most cooperative man in the world.


End file.
